Chapter 11: The Night Desk

I woke up with the paper under my hand and someone standing very still in the dark.

I knew him by his coat.

"How long have you been there?" I said.

"A while."

"You should have woken me."

"I know." He came into the lamplight, and his face was gray.

"They suspended my funding tonight," he said. "Brady's father's office filed an integrity allegation."

"Why?"

"I turned down his money, and he didn't wait for my answer."

I sat up.

"Out loud," he said, with something close to a smile. "As agreed."

"What money?"

He started to tell me about the offer, standing at the end of the table, and I was on my feet before he reached the rent.

"You said no."

"I said I'd think about it."

"You said no, Micah. You walked here instead of writing it."

"I couldn't write something that made you bow your head."

The words came out plain and quiet, and they went straight through me.

I looked at his mouth.

"Tell me what it cost you," I said. "Staying quiet. You said you didn't have a reason that cost me. What did it cost you?"

"Every morning," he said. "Every day since August."

He swallowed.

"I'd stand behind you in the coffee line and say the first line of the letter in my head, and not say it."

His voice cracked on the last word.

I had believed for a week that a man who watched me and said nothing didn't want me.

I had been wrong about that.

I walked around the table until I was close enough to see the ink on his hand.

"I'm going to say something out loud," I said. "Since that's the rule."

"All right."

"I want you. I've wanted you since you wiped my thumb."

I stepped closer.

"I don't care what the letter says or doesn't say. I want you in this room, tonight, right now."

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